


feel better

by un-ah (NeverConformEver)



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Newt (Maze Runner) Lives, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-The Death Cure, Smut, Spanking, Switch!Minho, Threesome - M/M/M, bottom!Thomas, top!newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverConformEver/pseuds/un-ah
Summary: Thomas gets hurt. Minho is unhappy. Newt has a solution.
Relationships: Minho/Newt (Maze Runner), Minho/Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner), Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Kudos: 92
Collections: Pieces of Thominewt





	feel better

**Author's Note:**

> written for an anon request on tumblr for Thominewt with Thomas and Newt comforting Minho  
> i dunno if i filled the request right, but hope yall like it anyway! lol
> 
> also, i have this listed as "no archive warnings apply" because the fandom wiki lists thomas, newt, and minho's ages as 17-19, so my assumption is that they're all 19 by the end of tdc. and thus, of age. though to my understanding, canon is vague about their ages, especially due to the whole memory loss thing. so if you don't believe them to be of age and that bothers you, you can either click out of the fic or know that my intention in writing this fic was that they're aged up to at least 19 years old.

Truthfully, Minho isn’t sure why he snaps so hard. Maybe it’s the way Thomas doesn’t even seem to notice it, the way he doesn’t seem to  _ care. _

Minho and Thomas usually go on supply runs together. Minho had thought the reason why he liked to insist on that was obvious, but apparently it isn’t, because when Thomas walks back into the hut that he shares with Minho and Newt three days after leaving to go on a supply run  _ without _ Minho he has a large bandage wrapped around his left forearm.

“Hey,” he says with a smile, setting his pack by the door. “Where’s Newt?”

“What happened?” Minho asks, immediately feeling his muscles tense even as he’s lying back against the headboard.

“We managed to scrounge around and find some medicine that could come in handy,” Thomas says. “Caught some fish on our way back, too. Oh! And some vegetable seeds—”

“I meant, what happened to  _ you.” _

Thomas looks a bit confused, ears pricking at Minho’s angry tone. He finally turns to look at Minho and notices the stormy expression on his face.

“Oh, uh, you mean this?” he holds up his arm.

“Yes, Thomas. You’re hurt. Again.”

Thomas scratches his neck nervously. “It’s nothing, I just—”

“It’s not nothing!”

They both jump at the rise in Minho’s voice. He hadn’t meant to yell.

“Minho, is everything okay?”

Minho takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “Yes. No. I’m fine.”

In truth, during the three days Thomas had been gone he’d been unable to relax. Newt managed to make sure he got some sleep and kept up an endless stream of reassurances that “Tommy will be fine, he always turns out fine in the end,” but seeing Thomas hurt and knowing that he might’ve been able to prevent it if he’d just  _ been there— _

Thomas comes over to sit by him, ducking his head to try to catch his eye. “You don’t have to worry about me, you know. I can take care of myself.”

Minho lets out a bitter laugh. “Except you can’t. You’re always doing reckless shit and jumping into things without thinking about yourself and you don’t even look where you’re going half the time and—Do you ever think about how it feels? To watch you get hurt or nearly get yourself killed all the shucking time, to—”

“Minho,” Thomas says, shifting over so he can plop onto Minho’s lap. “It was just a scrape. I’m fine.”

“That’s not the issue!” Minho says. He wants to shake Thomas, hard. But his hands are gentle as they come to rest on Thomas’s waist, fingers molding to the shape of him, feeling the weight of his body against his. “I just—I can’t protect you if you keep throwing yourself into these situations!”

Minho thinks about all the times Thomas almost didn’t make it. The times he almost got crushed by the maze doors, when he ran ahead for no reason other than that his gut told him to, or stayed behind because he didn’t know how not to. Minho trusts Thomas’s gut—and even if he didn’t, he’d follow Thomas anywhere, anyway. But there were too many times. Too many shucking times they’d almost lost him. Minho reaches up to grip Thomas’s face in his hands, bringing his head down so that they’re staring in each other’s eyes. “You’re important, Thomas. Don’t you know that? You can’t just go and throw your life away all the time! I can’t handle it.”

Thomas lays his hands on top of Minho’s, cradling them. “Minho. WCKD is gone. You remember that, right? We’re safe now. You don’t need to protect anyone anymore. No one is coming for us.”

Minho knows that. And he wants to call Thomas’s bluff—he sees him looking over his shoulder all the time, the same old stink of fear pouring off of him. Old habits die hard, and sometimes Minho thinks that maybe so do evil scientific corporations. He doesn’t know how to settle into safety, and neither does Thomas. They’re still waiting for the next strike, the next catastrophe. The next thing that will tear them all apart. Newt fares a little better, but he’d always been a bit more level-headed than them two, so Minho thinks sometimes that maybe he just knows how to hide it better.

But Minho doesn’t say any of those things. Instead he takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and what comes out is a quiet, “But you’re hurt.”

Thomas sighs. “That’s not your fault. I’m here, okay? I’m right here, and I’m fine, I’m safe, and I’m not leaving you.”

Thomas leans forward to give Minho a kiss, firmly pressing their lips together and then barely parting, just breathing each other in. Thomas leans their foreheads together, noses brushing. “Breathe, Minho.”

Minho breathes, trying to force himself to relax.

“He’s right, though, you know,” Newt says from where he’s leaning on the door frame. Minho and Thomas look up as he ambles over. “You’re way too reckless, Tommy.”

Thomas frowns. “But I’m  _ fine.” _

“But you worry us. Minho, especially. You know what I think?” Newt smirks. “I think you need to be punished for being so careless.”

Minho meets Newt’s eyes over the top of Thomas’s head. He feels a trickle of warmth run down his spine at the dark look in Newt’s eye. Thomas shifts uncomfortably on Minho’s lap.

“Oh, come on—”

“I agree,” Minho says, lips curling upwards. Thomas squirms and Minho grabs his hips to keep him still. “I think we need to give you something to think about the next time you decide to do something dangerous.”

Newt settles on the bed behind Thomas, sandwiching him between them. He runs his hands up and down Thomas’s arms, lingering softly over the bandage.

“Tommy,” he says, soft and low. “You aren’t going to fight us on this, are you?” He wraps his arms around Thomas’s waist, tucking his chin over Thomas’s shoulder and nosing at the crook of his neck. Minho can feel the way Thomas shivers. His cock twitches in interest. Newt locks eyes with him as he kisses Thomas’s neck, sucking on a tender spot. Thomas melts into his arms, leaning back and rolling his head to the side as the rest of his limbs turn to putty.

Minho loves watching them put on a show. It’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen, and he never gets tired of it.

But Newt has something other than just watching in mind for Minho. He runs his hands down Thomas’s chest, lingering at where his stomach jumps under his hand and teasing at his waistband before tucking his thumbs inside and slowly sliding them down Thomas’s hips. Thomas turns to him for a kiss and Newt gives it to him, open-mouthed and filthy. Minho can hear the sounds of their heavy breathing and the wet suck of their lips parting. Newt runs his hand over Thomas’s hip and down through his hair, skirting the base of his cock before pulling back.

Before Thomas can realize what’s happening, Minho and Newt shift, in sync. Then he’s face down, draped over Minho’s lap. Minho rests a wide, heavy palm against his ass.

“You ready, baby?”

Thomas huffs. “It’s two against one!”

Newt stands, unbuckling his own pants. “That’s not a no, Tommy.”

Thomas makes a token noise of protest before relaxing onto Minho’s lap. Minho can feel him; he’s hard.

“Fine,” Thomas says.

Minho raises his hand and lets it fly.

Thomas jolts, letting out an unconscious whine at the sting. Minho does it again. And again. And again.

“Shh,” Newt says, kneeling and petting a hand through Thomas’s hair. “You can take it.”

Thomas tenses in anticipation of the next strike, hands reaching out for purchase. Newt grabs onto them, rubbing circles onto the backs of his palms with his thumbs. Minho continues.

It takes a few minutes for the sniffling to start. Minho stops for a bit, stroking lightly over the reddened skin. His hand is buzzing pleasantly, the reverb from each strike tingling along his fingers.

Just a bit more.

The tears start flowing endlessly now, Thomas’s hands white-knuckled around Newt’s. His ass is bright red across both cheeks and just above his thighs. His chest is beginning to hitch with every breath, the beginnings of a sob.

When Minho feels it’s been enough, he stops. He takes one of Thomas’s hands from Newt and gives it a kiss.

“What do you say, baby?”

Thomas hiccups. “T-Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

Minho reaches down to fondle Thomas’s cock, which is leaking and smearing precum against his thigh. “That’s a good boy.”

Together, Minho and Newt help Thomas up and lay him down on the bed, on his front, so as not to aggravate his backside. Thomas squirms, clearly uncomfortably hard.

“No touching,” Newt orders, then kneels between Minho’s legs, pulling off Minho’s pants and spreading his knees with his hands.

There’s something about Newt when he takes charge. Minho finds it irresistible. Minho groans when Newt’s oil-slicked fingers find his hole, rubbing in small, firm circles before dipping in.

“You just lie back now,” Newt murmurs. “Let someone else take care of you for once.” He side-eyes Thomas meaningfully. Thomas grimaces, chagrined.

Minho is relaxed and ready, so it doesn’t take long for Newt to get in two fingers. And from there, it isn’t long until it’s three, and then Newt is slicking up his cock and kissing the inside of Minho’s knee. “Ready?”

Minho nods, propping himself up on his elbows so he can watch as Newt slides inside. Thomas is wide-eyed next to them and breathing hard.

Unlike Minho, Thomas hates watching. He always feels the need to be doing things, to be involved, to be at the center.

But he’s gotten enough attention, today. Or so Newt has decided, apparently.

“No touching,” Newt reminds Thomas, and Thomas guiltily slides his hands back into view.

It feels strange. It always feels strange at first. But then Newt finds his rhythm and angle, and then it’s  _ wonderful. _ Minho lets himself be vocal, partly because he has no shame (in fact he’s proud of his two gorgeous boyfriends and their fantastic sex life), partly because it riles Thomas up.

Newt licks at Minho’s nipple, left hand jacking his cock loosely. Minho has his feet placed on the mattress so he can rock back and forth, giving as good as he gets. Thomas’s hands twitch, his eyes fixated on his two boyfriends.

“Did you want to be useful, Tommy?” Newt asks, panting lightly.

Thomas nods quickly. Newt raises an eyebrow.

“Y-yes,” Thomas stutters. “Yes, please.”

Newt pauses for a moment to reach over and fist his hand in Thomas’s hair. “Good boy,” he says with a devilish smirk. Then he drags Thomas by the hair until his face is hovering over Minho’s dick, and Thomas gets to work.

Minho loves Thomas’s mouth. He  _ loves _ Thomas’s mouth. And Thomas is good with it—he slurps sloppily, drool leaking from out of the corners of his mouth as he bobs his head and takes Minho’s cock all the way to the back of his throat. He’s eager and desperate, sometimes going too fast for his own good, throat spasming around the tip as it hits the back too quick.

Newt keeps his hand on Thomas’s head, controlling his pace, sometimes pushing Thomas’s face down to Minho’s pelvis and holding him there until he begins to struggle. Before long, Thomas is glassy-eyed and messy, lips puffy and red and tear tracks running down his cheeks.

Newt pulls Thomas off and kisses him, sharing the taste of Minho’s cock between them. When they part, gasping, Thomas’s neck still craned from Newt’s grip in his hair, Newt licks his lips. “And that’s all you’ll get for today,” he tells Thomas, pushing him away.

Then, Newt gives an expert thrust and reaches down to tug at Minho’s cock until he comes with a deep, guttural groan.

Minho collapses back onto the bed, exhausted. Newt gives him a lazy kiss, pulling out. His hand moves over his own cock once, twice, thrice, and then he’s spilling all over Minho’s stomach.

They lie like that for awhile, lazily making out as the sticky sweat on their limbs cool. Thomas watches from the side, pouting.

Finally, Minho reaches an arm out and tugs him in close. Thomas is still hard, but he accepts his punishment with surprising grace and cuddles up against Minho’s chest with a small sigh.

Newt smiles, tucking strand of hair behind Thomas’s ear and giving Minho a peck on the temple.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

Minho grins, running a soothing hand up and down Thomas’s back. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Newt chuckles.

**Author's Note:**

> u can find me on tumblr [@manako-no-yami](https://manako-no-yami.tumblr.com) if u so wish c:


End file.
